


this is my life but I just got here

by C_Sharp



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Meetings, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Sharp/pseuds/C_Sharp
Summary: In which John Silver is a bit more caught up in his past than canon, and has to figure out how to be a pirate or something.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	this is my life but I just got here

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! I wrote a one shot- I might make it a series of one shots though, would love opinions. 
> 
> I know I'm late to black sails but that's fine bc so is whoever's decides on the Emmy noms 😔

All of his beginnings had folded in on eachother and here he was again. A knife in a stranger's belly and a name that hadn't been his for a long time.

He can see the chapel in his mind still, can feel the crumbled stones of monastery walls beneath his hands if he tries hard enough.

But no. There's just blood on his hands now. 

_Again_. 

Fuck sake. 

****

"My name is John Silver and I happen to be a very good cook." 

His smile feels like its breaking his face. 

It works though.

****

God, the sea is everywhere and there was a version of him an eon ago that would've loved this. 

The child whose forehead was crossed with oil. The child who had only known stones in the drought worn countryside. 

He can feel that drought sometimes, in the sunburn across his shoulders. 

"How long have you been at sea?" It's the bosun who asks. 

Always probably. 

But he says a month, because it's basically the same thing. 

****

There is a piece of paper burning a hole through his pocket. 

Set alight by the other piece of paper the captain is holding aloft. Declaring it the stolen map to a fantastical prize. 

There's a dead man on the deck. Cannon ball to the skull would do that. 

Words flow like water from Flints mouth and the crew are taking their fill as if they're parched. 

The words are clever and John hates that he notices that. 

****

There were warm hands on his face.

"Rest now, John." It's the Father. 

He wakes up. 

The ship is due to make it to Nassau today. 

The material of the shirt he was given last night was awful, it was too good at calling forth memories of sickbeds and pitying priests. 

He hauls himself out of his hammock and he doesn't go to the kitchen. Like he should, like he still could if he had more sense. More faith. 

"Have faith, and all will be well."

That had been easy to say before the food had run out, cracked ground too burnt to grow anything. 

Stupid shirt. 

****

He knocks on the cabin door. A voice bades him entry. 

Flint is looking out of the window. He's got good posture and his hands are clasped together behind his back. 

Navy. 

That much is obvious to him at least. 

John clears his throat and Flint actually looks at him. 

"Can I help you with something?" 

Flint has the look of someone born with a frown, John could imagine him disapproving of the world as soon as he'd entered it. 

What does he say though, to that kind of face.

"Don't kill me." 

Fucking awful thing to say. But he did fucking say it didn't he. 

He holds out the ripped page. 

Flint looks like he's going to kill him. 

****

There were a lot of books in the captains cabin. He'd read all their spines three times over. 

A whole fucking hour of Gates and Billy and Flint. And their questions. 

Not that they'd liked his answers though.

Gates and Billy had left a few minutes ago. Flint was doing a good job of looking at him without actually looking at him.

The monks had been able to do that. 

"So what are you running from?"

He definitely doesn't startle. 

Lie. 

"I-" and he can feel all those beginnings pressing on his shoulders like he's atlas holding the fucking sky. 

He can't.

He can't lie. 

Which is awful because he's shit at everything else. Except speaking Spanish maybe but that wouldn't go down well here. 

"I left- I was on that merchant ship for a month but before that I was..." 

Flint gestures for him to continue. His rings glint in the sunlight that streams through the window and John finds himself watching those hands as he talks. 

He tells Flint everything. 

John can't breath by the time he's finished and he's still looking at those hands. 

But he doesn't notice when one grasps at his wrist. 

Flint is looking him in the eyes now. 

"You're not the only man to be haunted by their past Silver." 

Fuck John's story must've been really sad because Flint definitely doesn't want to kill him anymore. 

"I can tell." 

Shit.

He hadn't meant to say that. 

Flint let's go of his wrist.

"If this is haunted, I'm quite glad of it." 

John hadn't been expecting that. 

"Why?"

"Because it means it was worth it."

John stares. 

Oh. 

He understands of course. It's the same way that he can feel all his beginnings, sometimes threatening to crush him sometimes comforting him. 

What's important is meant to haunt you. 

And John has to wonder.

What was so important to Flint that he has _that_ look in his eyes?


End file.
